


Make Me Yours

by thefutureisequalaf



Series: I Like My Name When You Say It [5]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Aftercare, Blindfolds, Bondage, Dom Lena Luthor, F/F, Light Dom/sub, Nipple Clamps, POV Second Person, Sub Kara Danvers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-02 11:44:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13317393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefutureisequalaf/pseuds/thefutureisequalaf
Summary: When all you can do is feel her gentle hands on your skin and hear her soft voice in her ear, you feel more at peace than you can remember. It's better than flying. Rao, itisflying. Even with the trace Kryptonite, sometimes you feel light on your knees.Soft, 2nd-person d/s.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with more in the vein of "I Like My Name When You Say It." Naturally, I recommend reading that one first.
> 
> This was going to be huge long thing - just their kink negotiation turned into a thesis - but I discovered the allure of dom!Kara and got entirely distracted. There'll be a _lot_ of that after I've finished posting this.

You can tear a titanium bar in half with your bare hands. She had you try it once. You gripped the ends so hard your fingers left impressions, then pulled your hands apart. You tore it in two as though it were an old rubber band.

You’re pretty sure it turned her on.

You see the same admiration and desire in her eyes every time you put your Kryptonite necklace on. She knows how much you’re giving up to her and it makes her heart beat faster. Even with the effects of the trace Kryptonite, even when she blindfolds you with lead, you can still hear that much. You know all her breaths and sighs, too. You know when she’s warm, soft, pleased, humbled, awed – and hungry. That’s one of your favorites.

You love what your surrender does to her. Some days, it's all you can think about. You long for it.

Then there’s what it does to you. Cuffed, bound, or tied and spread like a sacrifice on an altar – in a way, you are, but you aren’t a victim. It’s for you as much as for her, maybe more. When all you can do is feel her gentle hands on your skin and hear her soft voice in her ear, you feel more at peace than you can remember. It's better than flying. Rao, it _is_ flying. Even with the Kryptonite, sometimes you feel light on your knees.

The most completely loved you ever feel is when she has you helpless, one hand stroking your hair and the other claiming you from inside, her voice whispering in your ear how much she adores her little bird. Sometimes, her voice sounds in your mind at work, ‘ _That’s my good girl, you’re being so good for me. Yes, clench around my fingers’,_ and you smile to yourself. You don’t care who sees the look in your eyes and the blood rising to your cheeks. You’re not ashamed; on the contrary, everyone else should be jealous. You have Lena and Lena has you.

Today, you’re on your knees but not upright. They’re parted and you’re sitting back on your heels, stretched out like a cat, your hands bound to the headboard. Your thighs are tied to your calves and your ankles to the bedposts, leaving you nowhere to go. Not that you want to go anywhere. You never do. She strokes your hair and rechecks that none is caught in the strap of the gag. “Comfortable?” She asks. You nod. She smiles and takes your sight away.

The first thing you feel is her hands on your back. They slide up and down the cords of your muscles, then up your sides, framing you. From there, it's a short distance to your breasts, which she palms and kneads. A light tug on your nipples makes you hum. “You’re mine, little bird,” she murmurs, and tugs just a little harder. You try to press your breasts into her hands again and she smiles, chuckles, kisses the nape of your neck. “You like it when I cup your breasts, don’t you?” You nod. She's still playing with your nipples. “You like filling my warm hands. It makes you feel possessed, doesn't it?” She tugs again and you moan. She kisses your neck again and then cups your breasts, just holding them. You sigh. Now that she has them, you want more. You want her to knead you again, play with you, pinch your nipples harder – you want everything. She has that effect on you. You know what she can make you feel and you ache for it.

Her hands leave, moving to your back again, and you control a whimper. She won't mind it when she has you worked up and out of control, but, right now, it's not your place to be disappointed. Everything Miss Luthor does is on purpose, everything you feel is on purpose, and all you are to do is enjoy it like a good girl.

Her fingers caress, then draw like claws down the length of your back. She's not using nails – she keeps hers trimmed short – but the suggestion is still there. In some primal way, it makes you feel marked and claimed. Her hands continue on across your flanks and down your legs to the first rope, then caress back up. They leave and the bed shifts.

Warm oil pours between your glutes and you inhale sharply. You knew by your position that she planned to play with your butt; feeling liquid on your anus, though, always catches you off-guard. You can count the number of times she's done this on one hand, but you've grown into it eagerly. She only needs to coax your bud for a few moments before it allows her finger to slip inside. It slides in and out, softly and smoothly, and a second joins it. You coo behind your gag and try to shift your hips closer to her. She grins. “You want more, little bird? You are so divinely shameless. Don't worry, I have… _big_ plans for you.”

You shudder and hum. Then her fingers leave and you almost whine, but again catch yourself in time. You wait and she rewards you with a smooth, hard press against your vulnerable ring. A plug. She takes her time inserting it, being ever so gentle. Her care and sensitivity would make you smile, if your gag permitted it. Sometimes, it’s those little things which warm your heart.

You smell a hint of disinfectant; she’s wiping her fingers after they’ve been in your anus. You know what that means. Between the oil and your arousal, you’re well lubricated and easily receive her fingers when they seek entry to your cunt. “Rao, you’re warm inside. It must feel good, all that blood flowing…” You try to smile against the gag. She picked up ‘Rao’ from you about a month ago. You kinda like hearing her say it. Her fingers curl inside you and a frisson races through your body. She’s going for _that_ spot, you realize.

You hope she laid out a towel.

She works in you, stoking your fire. You moan as she plays you like an instrument. You _are_ an instrument, making a music of gasps, coos, and moans for Miss Luthor. You hear her smile and you know why; because it’s beautiful to her. You’re beautiful to her. She loves you. That’s why her thumb is flicking fast across your clit and her fingers are curling and sliding inside you. It’s her love for you that’s winding you tighter, pushing you higher, taking you apart…

“Come for me, little bird. Come all over me like a good girl.”

It's a command you’re about to obey regardless. Her fingers have seen to that, pushing all your buttons and driving all your spots. You feel the flow coming as your orgasm approaches and you will it to rush out.

With her fingers still working inside you, your depths spasm and you spurt like the good girl you are. _“That's_ it.” It's half coo, half growl. “That's what I love to see from my beautiful little bird. If only you could see what I see…” When you've leaked your last drop, her fingers slide out. You hear her suck on them, then feel her tongue licking away at your wet inner thighs and soaked cunt. “I’m having some lovely ideas about mirrors,” she murmurs against your leg. Watching yourself sounds a little out there, but, then again, you’d get to see yourself as she sees you – as the good girl who belongs to her. You hum in encouragement.

“We’ll talk,” she whispers, and places a kiss on your rear. The bed shifts as she stands and walks to the headboard. There, she unties your wrists and helps you sit upright on your knees. Still blindfolded, you wonder what she’s up to. You hear and feel the bed shift again as she climbs on in front of you.

Something goes _click._

You shudder as vibration fills you from your lowest depths. Oh, Rao, it’s _that_ butt plug. You hear her smile, pleased with your reaction, and then her rush of breath as you start to tip over. She catches your shoulders and straightens you, then places your hands on her own shoulders. “Can you keep going like this?” Her voice is tinged with concern. You nod and grip her shoulders. In response, the vibrator goes up a step. You groan and she kisses your cheek. “You’ve been so good for me, little bird.” She says it with such pride that your heart glows. One of her shoulders dips as she reaches for something.

That something presses against your lower lips, something smooth and hard. It enters you slowly. _“Mmmm,_ good thing my good girl is so wet,” she murmurs, and it's true. This must be the new, bigger toy she showed you the other day. As you feel it stretching and filling you, you remember that it, too, is a vibrator. You groan again, but you aren't worried. You think you can do this with her. If you can’t, you won't hesitate to end it – she’s counting on you for that – but you think you'll enjoy it.

When it's all the way in, you hear sheets shifting and feel her leg slide between yours. Her thigh presses up against the base of the new vibrator, keeping it inside you. The corners of your lips quirk upward against your gag; she’s keeping her hands free to use elsewhere. Your cheek, for example. You hum to show your gratitude.

The second vibrator switches on at its lowest setting. It's pressing against the back of your clit from inside and you sigh into the gag. It's wonderful – your whole lower body is thrumming – but you know it won't be enough. You know that she knows it. She's free to do with you as she pleases. You belong to her.

As if reading your thoughts, her thumb caresses your jaw. _“Do I make you feel good, little bird?”_

You nod appreciatively.

_“Do you want to know how good I feel?”_

This time, your nod is enthusiastic.

A moment later, wet fingertips trace the wide circle of her lips and you smell the scent you know best; _her._ She must be so turned on, you realize, but she's making this all about you. The way she's pushing you, you'll be too spent to give her anything in return. She must know that. You don’t know whether to feel grateful or guilty.

The vibrators step up a notch and, soon, you feel neither of those things. You feel _good,_ oh so good. Her hands go to your breasts and you moan. Every sound you feel, you make. You know she loves it as much as you do. That’s why she's pinching and tugging at your nipples now; to hear what she's making her good girl feel. _“Enjoying?”_ She murmurs. You just moan louder.

The vibrators speed up again and an urgency takes hold inside you. This isn't just pleasure; it's pleasure that's going somewhere, that needs a climax, and you whimper. You whimper because that climax won't be yours until she gives you what you need. You know she will – she always will and it's always worth it – but you also hear the smirk in her breathing. You know it won't be quick. She wants to see you need her and trust her.

She tugs your nipples a little harder and you lean forward. She lets go and catches your upper arms, then lowers you to rest on her shoulder. She caresses up and down your back, runs fingers through your hair, and at any other time it’d be all you want. Now, though, your needs are _down there_ , and all you can do is sigh into her neck and trust her.

Your vibrators click faster still. You gasp behind your gag and roll your hips; this is more like it. The one in your cunt is doing so much yet so little for your clit. As you moan, you realize that you won’t come until she touches your clit, no matter how high the vibrators go. The thought makes you groan even louder.

She lifts you off her shoulder to rest her forehead against yours and murmurs in her thirstiest voice, _“I love hearing you moan into your gag. I love knowing that all you can express is the pleasure I’m giving you.”_ She cradles your cheek and you press into her hand. It’s warm. It’s always warm, like her voice is now. “I love that you trust me so much. I love the way you react…” she pinches your nipple firmly; you groan and arch your back. “I love the way you shiver and shudder…” Her fingertips trail down your side and you do both. “I love you.” She kisses your other cheek.

Then her thumb brushes around your slick, wide-parted labia and you know what’s coming; she’s getting it wet for your clit. She waits a second, though, watching as your hips press forward with anticipation. She smiles and gives you the lightest brush on your most sensitive spot. You buck again and then she’s driving you fast. Already filled, buzzing, and throbbing, you’re coming within seconds. It’s among the most powerful you’ve felt and it rocks you to your core. You lose your grip on her shoulders and she takes her hand from your cheek to steady you. You whimper at the loss, but her arm around your back is the next best thing. You know you need the support.

 _“Let go, little bird. Give me everything.”_ With two vibrators and her thumb, her breath in your ear is all it takes to send you over again. You’re still gasping from it when she tugs the blindfold away. As you gaze into her green eyes, you feel a third building. Your moans are hoarse and endless behind your gag. Your cunt clenches and your body bucks again, the orgasm ripping through you, and then the vibrators switch off. In a second, the gag is out and she’s holding you. She knows she’s pushed you. She offers to cut the ropes binding you in your kneeling position instead of untying them, but you shake your head. “I’ll- I’ll be fine for a minute.”

“Okay.” She gives you a quick kiss and then works fast, undoing the knots and drawing out the ropes. You stretch your legs out and reach for her. She crawls back up and kisses you properly, cradling your head and removing your necklace, then holds you close. After a minute, she says softly, “I need to massage your legs.”

You hate to let go but she’s right. You nod and she descends again, grabbing the bottle of oil on the way. You don’t care whether she uses oil, but she does. It’ll make you smile, later.

Her hands, sliding over and working into your muscles, feel wonderful, but all you can think about is having her in your arms again. In a few minutes, she is and, this time, she stays there.

* * *

You’re cuddled on the couch, now, both in sweats. After a glass of water and a hunk of a chocolate bar, you drifted off in her arms for a while. You woke up looking into her green eyes, and it’s everything. You don’t even kiss, just gaze and smile. Finally, she blinks and looks away.

“Kara…I still can’t quite believe what you let me do with you,” she murmurs.

Now you kiss her, first on her cheek, then turning her head back to take her lips. You fold your arms around her shoulders, your hands meeting behind her head, and say with kisses everything the gag kept you from saying with words. Something occurs to you. “You must be full of sexual tension.”

She smiles and shakes her head. “It’s not important. This was about you.”

You give her a mock glare. “It’s important to me.”

“You need to rest,” she insists.

“Go get a vibrator. All I’ll have to do is hold it for you.”

She acquiesces. In a minute, she’s back next to you, sliding her sweatpants down, and you see how wet she’s been. You feel a twinge in your chest. “Lena, you know I love making you come. This shouldn’t be all about me. Make it about _us.”_

Her smile is wistful. “I guess I got carried away with how much I love you.”

“Aww, Lena, I always want to take care of you, too.” That’s exactly what you do. Her orgasm is a thing of beauty. It always is, but there’s something special about how domestic this moment is; no burning passion, no theater, just your lover and her sweet pleasure. “Do you want more?” You murmur.

After a moment, she shakes her head.

You turn off the vibrator. “You’re not just saying that, are you?”

“No. I want to cuddle.”

She slips in and out of sleep in your arms, now, her face buried in your neck. In one interlude of wakefulness, you whisper in her ear, _“Potstickers or pizza?”_

 _“Potstickers,”_ she mutters back.

You chuckle. “Now I know you’re just saying that.”

She lifts up to look in your eyes. “This part is about you. Whatever you want, Kara.”

“I’m clearly caring for you now. Pizza it is.”

By the time you’re eating, sitting together on the floor in front of the couch, she’s back to her normal self. You smile around a mouthful of sausage, peppers, and cheese. “Talk?” You ask.

“Honestly, I don’t have any comments. Today went really well for me. How was it all for you?”

You grin. “Fucking perfect.” She laughs at that; you never swear except to surprise her. “But actually, I have one issue; you didn’t let me get you off. That matters to me, Lena.”

She sighs. “I wanted to-”

You take her hand. “I know, Lena. I appreciate your intent, really.”

“Thanks, but it’s not just that. Kara, sometimes…sometimes, having control over your body and your experience is all I really want. I wasn’t denying myself today or sacrificing my pleasure for you. That simply wasn’t a priority for me. All I wanted today was to feel powerful.”

You tilt your head. “Doesn’t telling me to go down on you make you feel powerful?”

“It does,” she says, “but nowhere near as much as when you surrender yourself and let me have my way with you. Today, I wanted to savor that feeling for as long as I could. Whether or not I came didn’t enter my mind.”

“You never told me that about you,” you say, smiling back. “I didn’t realize the power aspect was as good as the sex for you. That’s actually really cool.”

“Isn’t the submission aspect as good as the sex for you?”

“It is.” You grin. “I just never put it the other way around before. I understand where you’re coming from now.”

“Thank you,” she says.

“Also,” you say with emphasis, “I deeply enjoy serving and caring for you. Giving you pleasure is important to me. I want it in our play.”

She gives your hand a squeeze. “Okay. Next time, I’ll make sure we both get what we want. Anything else on your mind?”

“No.” You give her a sweet smile. “You were amazing, Lena. _Are_ amazing.”

“You, too.” Her smile falters and she looks down. “I had an idea while you were on your knees.” She swallows. “This is just an idea.” You nod and she meets your eyes with visible effort. “You would look lovely with a pair of elegant clamps decorating your nipples.”

Your brain screeches to a halt. _Nipple clamps._ “That would hurt, wouldn’t it?”

“I'd make the pressure and tension as low as you want,” she promises.

“But…” You gulp. “They have to stay on, right? It wouldn’t be nothing.”

She looks as if she's taken her heart in her hands and held it out to you. “Is it okay if I want to see you whimper just a little bit?”

You don’t hesitate. “I'll try it for you.”

The look of relief on her face is worth any pain in your nipples.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Leave comments, I love hearing from you :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate to be self-deprecating, but I don't know if this is my best work. It could probably do with more editing, but I'm ready to move on. I hope you enjoy anyway :)

You kneel and wait for Miss Luthor, although ‘kneel’ misses the totality of your situation. You're on your knees, yes, but a spreader bar holds them apart, Kevlar rope woven from blue and red cords binds your arms behind your back and forms a harness around your breasts, and a pair of nipple clamps keep you on edge. A full-length mirror in front of you provides a comprehensive view, featuring your flushed chest, aching nipples, and slick cunt. You smile at the view, knowing how it will please Miss Luthor.

* * *

Two days after she brought up nipple clamps, she sits you down again and makes sure you both agree on what you’re getting into. This is an entirely new direction for your play. You’re nervous and you admit it.

“Are you sure, _sure,”_ she asks, “that you want to try this? I’m… I don’t want you lying awake at night, thinking about how I smiled while I caused you pain.”

You consider. You want to say that won’t happen, but, if you’re honest, you’re only ninety-nine percent sure. “Then don’t smile the first time. Let’s do a trial, where I kneel and you put them on me and we just see how it is. We’ll keep it neutral.”

She nods. “Yes. I also think it would be good if, before that, you tried them on yourself without me.”

You tilt your head, picturing it.

“See how it feels,” she continues. “Try different amounts of pinch and tension. I could make the clamps with thumbwheels to adjust the spring.”

“You can buy them, you know,” you point out.

“I could get you some small laboratory weights to try hanging from them,” she continues without comment, “so you can see what you like and don’t like. Maybe I could make a few different clamps with jaws of different widths, to change the pressure.”

“Ever the scientist,” you grin. “Yes, let’s do it that way. Make me a kit.”

She nods. “Try it out and write down where your limits are for each variable. I’ll take that and make a set that’s worthy of you.”

You were smirking at her for saying ‘variable’, but now you tilt your head again. “Worthy of me?”

“I wouldn’t put just anything against your skin, Kara.” She’s smiling. “If we do this, I’m making it special.”

* * *

She comes home late on Friday evening and presents you with a small box. “It’s what we talked about,” she tells you. “You’ll need your necklace on when you try it.”

Alone in your bedroom – she’s making dinner – you open the box. Inside is a notepad – she knew you’d forget to make notes otherwise – and under it are little metal clamps, weights, and chains. Each is nestled in a custom-shaped cutout in a foam pad. You smile and shake your head. It probably took her an extra hour to make the pad, but she never does anything halfway for you. You lift out the clamp with the broadest jaws and recognize it as titanium, like your padded cuffs. You pinch the free ends. It opens like a little metal crocodile with rubber-coated jaws. Staring into it, you ask yourself whether you’re seriously going to put that on yourself.

You are. You’re curious, now.

Taking off your top and donning your Kryptonite necklace, you bring the jaws to your nipple. At first, you hold the clamp so it sticks out level, but you realize that’s not right for the weights. From below, now, you slowly relax the pressure with your fingers and let it close.

The jaws are way too wide for your resting nipple. It needs to be erect, you realize, though this clamp looks like it still wouldn’t work; it’d put too much pressure near the base and not enough near the tip. Placing the clamp back in its place, you coax your body until your nipples stand up, firm and pebbled. Then, you try the next size down.

When the jaws close on your skin, the pressure is barely there. You could tug it off easily. So, holding the free ends of the jaws still, you start turning the thumbwheel. The pressure comes on gradually, first a light grip, then a gentle squeeze, and then a firm pinch, like she gives when she’s teasing you. You like that.

But she wants to see you whimper.

You keep turning the thumbwheel. Your nipple starts to ache. Then it starts to burn. Then it’s all pain and you take it off. There’s a slight sting as your blood flows back into your compressed skin. While you wait for it to subside, you loosen the thumbwheel until it stops. Then, recovered, you put the jaws back on – they’re nearly falling off at this level – and count the turns until you’re back at the level you liked. You make a note, then continue until you ache. You make another note, then ask yourself how you’d feel if Miss Luthor kept going.

You can take a little more.

Another two turns and it starts to feel like fire. Then you sit and wait.

It burns.

Then it hurts.

Then it just aches. You make a note.

You try hanging one of the weights. It’s a metal cylinder the size of a pencil eraser, and you can hardly feel the difference. The next size up pulls a little. The size after that adds to your ache; the next renews the burn; the next is all pain. You stop, wanting to try the applying the clamp with the weight attached.

This time, when you remove the clamp, there’s no sting, but only numbness – for a second. Then there is, and it’s much worse than before. You hiss and clamp a hand over your mouth. You don’t want her to hear anything and worry. Eyes leaking, you make a note that she _has_ to hold your cheek whenever she takes the clamps off.

After a few minutes, you try again with the weights attached, this time on the other nipple. There’s a balance, you find, between pressure and tension. You can take less of both than you can of either one alone.

There are two clamps left. The smallest one looks painful, but the next-smallest might be good. You repeat your experiments with it. Something between it and the second-largest, you conclude, would be Goldilocks. You make your last note and realize it’s been almost an hour. Swallowing, you hope she isn’t getting anxious. After unclasping your necklace and putting on a bra, you reach for your shirt – what the hell, it’s your apartment. It’ll save you taking it off again when you try the clamps with her.

She isn’t anxious. “The longer you took, the more likely you were into it,” she explains, smiling. Your shirtlessness probably has something to do with her smile, too.

You present your findings to her over dinner. You tell her what you enjoyed, what you tolerated, and what you disliked. She nods along, staying neutral until you’re finished. She thanks you profusely for taking detailed notes. “I especially needed to know the weights,” she says, and you wonder why.

With a shy smile, you ask, “Can I try them with you after dinner?”

The light in her eyes makes your day.

* * *

You do it at the couch, her sitting and you kneeling on the floor. Your necklace is on but you’ve agreed that this isn’t play, just a test. She insists on bringing your nipples erect for you; “Touch will be part of this, Kara” she explains. You look at the clamp and weight in her hand – the second-smallest clamp and the heaviest weight you can take with it – but she tilts your chin up. “This is about how you feel about me, right? Keep your eyes on mine.” You watch them as she brings the clamp to your nipple and lets the jaws slowly close. Your breath catches with anticipation and you whimper when the clamp grips you. When she lets go of the weight, again slowly, you hiss. True to her word, she stays neutral. Now meeting your eyes, she asks, “Kara, how do you feel?”

Steadying your breath, you answer. “It hurts, but it’s not bad. It’s not serious pain.” You have to pause for another steadying breath, though. “This feels like something we’re doing together. It’s not something you’re doing _to_ me; it’s something I’m doing _with_ you, if that makes sense.” You give her genuine, albeit slightly strained, smile. “I want you to enjoy it.”

She drops the neutral mask and smiles wide.

* * *

The next time she brings a box home, it’s something special. It’s a small jewelry box, black with elegant silver inlays. She holds it with the little latch facing you. “Like I said, I wanted to make it worthy of you.”

You lift the lid and gasp. Inside, on a black velvet cushion, are two short, delicate silver chains. At one end of each is a silver clamp; at the other, a sapphire. “They’re beautiful, Lena.” You pick one up reverently and look it over.

She smiles. “Silver-plated titanium. From me to us.”

In that moment, you need her to know that you have the best lover in the universe. You put the clamp back in the box, put the box on the table, grab her by the lapel, and kiss her.

* * *

You’re on the bed, her sitting and you kneeling behind her, braiding her hair; French braids on each side. She sighs with contentment. You sigh, too, through your nose, because a ball gag blocks your mouth. In the wall mirror, you see her peaceful smile widen. You start to speak – you want to say, _“You really like this, don’t you?”_ – but the gag stops you. The corner of her mouth twitches upward in a smirk and you feel a wash of happiness at her enjoyment. You feel like you could braid her brunette hair all day, but you’re putting on the finishing touches. She picks up a mirror and surveys your handiwork. “Very good, little bird. I love it. Now,” she stands and points at the floor in front of the full-length mirror. “Kneel.”

You rise, a little reluctantly, from your comfortable spot on Lena's bed – and she doesn’t miss it. “Now.” You move, slower because of the Kryptonite necklace but still exceptionally fast, and drop to your knees. She giggles. “There’s my good girl.” She sits in front of you, tangles a hand in your hair, draws you close, and traces her tongue around your wide-parted lips. “Wait here. I'm going to take care of you, then change into something more appropriate.” She rises and steps out of view. You decide not to turn your head, and then to close her eyes.

In a moment, you hear her footsteps, and then feel a kiss on the scalp. “You didn’t look. I’m proud of you. Keep them closed for just a minute longer.” You nod. “Such a good girl. Open your legs, little bird, and sit up on your knees.” You obey. A wide leather strap closes around one of your legs, just above the knee, and then another around your other leg. Something metal clinks. She pushes your knees further apart and metal clinks again. “Open your eyes.”

You look down. A titanium tube holds your legs wide open. Your breath hitches at the implications, which she confirms by running her hands up the insides of your thighs. She smiles suggestively and circles behind you, brushing your blonde hair over one shoulder. In the mirror, you watch her lips descend to your neck. You close your eyes and roll your head to give her better access. Amid your sigh of pleasure, you almost don’t notice her hands drawing your wrists behind your back. When she brings your hands together, you clasp them automatically, and she hums her approval against your neck. _“Good girl.”_

She starts massaging your shoulders and you fill with warmth. It's one of your spots, one of the places that makes your eyes roll back and blood rush to your cheeks. You don’t know if it’s that good for everyone, but you’re glad it is for you. She loosens up your shoulders and back, working out your knots and planting scattered kisses across your head and neck. Then her hands leave, teeth scrape across your earlobe, and you feel rope against your arms. “Fold them for me.” You do, hands resting against your elbows, and you feel the rope loop around your forearms. You smile with anticipation; she’s been getting creative, lately.

She clamps one arm around the front of your shoulders, more to remind you whose you are than to keep you still. You feel the rope, two cords in parallel, lay against your upper arm and wrap around to your front. She pulls it snug over your chest, just pressing against the tops of your breasts, and around your other arm to your back. The rope wraps around you again and she ties it off behind you. Your arms aren’t going anywhere.

With one arm holding you again, she turns your head to her and kisses you, gentle at first but quickly becoming possessive. She keeps kissing but lets go to palm your breast, then drags her fingers down your arm. You sigh as she nips at your neck and again, louder and longer, when she wraps the rope around again, this time pressing against the undersides of your breasts. She ties it off again and grips your neck, pulls you back against her body, and your next sigh becomes a soft moan. Your hair is brushed to one side and the rope curls over your shoulder. She threads it under the rope above your breasts and pulls it through. Next, it’s over and up under the lower rope, back up and over your other shoulder, and tied off at your back again. She’s formed a harness around your upper body with two horizontal bands and a V between your breasts. The ropes compress you just a little, just enough that you won’t forget they’re there. Just enough to prove whose you are.

_“Feel good?”_ She whispers in your ear. You hum and nod. “Good,” she coos, unfastens your gag, and steps away. You again keep your eyes forward, though by the sounds you know that she’s was wiping the gag dry. Returning in front of you and lowering her lashes, she holds your eyes while slipping, one at a time, the thumbs and first three fingers of each hand into your mouth. You don’t need to be told to get them soaking wet. Satisfied, she places her fingertips at the bases of your nipples and draws them up. You sigh at the cool, wet touch, only to find your parted lips captured by hers. She continues caressing and pinching your nipples as she kisses, coaxing them out to play. You feel her smile as they come fully erect.

Finally, she breaks the kiss and sits back. Reaching into her cleavage, she returns with two short silver chains, each with a blue jewel at the end. You recognize your nipple clamps.  “This will hurt, Kara. No, don’t look down.” She holds the back of your head and forces you to maintain eye contact.

You feel a tight pinch and hiss; it hurts, all right. In the big picture of life, however, it’s only a little pain. You make yourself breathe through it.

“That’s it, good girl. You're being so good for me.” Pain lances through your other nipple and you whimper. She strokes your hair. “Check in with me, Kara.”

You take an unsteady breath, but that’s okay. “Green,” you say firmly.

“Okay. Be strong for me, little bird.” She grips the ropes between your breasts and pulls you forward into another kiss. The jewels swing on the ends of their chains, tugging at your sensitive nipples, making you gasp into her mouth. The shift in position brings something else to your attention.

You’re wet.

She puts her hands against your shoulders, gently pushes you back from the kiss, and surveys her handiwork. “Little bird, you look so lovely. I'll be back in just a few minutes. Stay still.”

* * *

Miss Luthor knows how to make an entrance. She could’ve left the ball gag in the room with you, but she took it with her just so she could dangle it from one finger now. You watch in the mirror, enthralled, as she stalks toward you. She’s wearing a bra that makes the barest pretense of covering her nipples, opera gloves, stockings, and a garter belt – all black, all sleek, all silk. No panties, you note. She stops behind you and inspects your reflection in the mirror. “My perfect treasure,” she breathes. “Oh, your nipples are everything I imagined.” She strokes your hair and you press into her touch. She smiles and steps past your shoulder, drawing your head to rest against her leg. “You’ve given me everything,” she says softly, giving you a minute to melt against her. “I never dreamed I'd have such a good girl to call my own.” Then, circling in front of you, she bends gracefully at the waist and brings your lips together. It’s over too soon. “Open wide, little bird.” You drop your jaw and accept the gag. Brushing your hair out of the way, she smiles, fastens the straps behind your head, and caresses along your hairline and down your cheeks. Taking your chin in her hand, she tilts your head back and runs the tip of her tongue around your sensitive lips. You smile to the best of your ability, which is next to nothing. She smiles back. “Now, where shall we begin…” She kneels in front of you and traces her silk-gloved fingertips along the flesh just inside the breast harness. You shiver. It doesn’t hurt, _per se,_ but your skin is flushed and sensitive. Her fingers move on, trailing down your solid torso and onto your bent, wide-spread legs, then back up towards your sex. “Mmmm, you’re wet for me already,” she purrs. “Good girl.” She cups your cheek and you lean into her palm, closing your eyes.

The ache in your nipples, dulled by time, turns to sparks of pain. Your eyes pop open and you look down. Her fingers are tickling the jewels hanging from the clamps. As they sway, rise, and fall, your breathing hitches and little noises try to escape your throat. You look up and see her smiling a loving smile, pure and deep. You try to focus on it and relax into the gloved hand on her cheek, but the jolts coming from your nipples won’t let you. You whimper and her smile widens. She leans down and licks one aching point. You groan behind the gag with tangled pleasure and pain. She just smiles and sucks on your other one. She teases with her tongue, laving at your flesh and making the clamp twitch. She adds her hands, massaging and kneading as best as she can within the confines of the harness. You lose yourself in sensation, aware of the groans and whimpers filling your throat but unable to control them. The corners of your eyes leak.

“Very, very good girl.” She gives each nipple a final kiss. Licking once more around the wide circle of your lips, she removes the gag and wipes away your tears. “Kara, how was that?” Her voice is caring and concerned.

You make a face. After the gag, you need a second to get your voice working again. “It hurt, but…I…liked…it?”

"The pain didn't bother you?" She asks, relieved but still making sure.

"No,” a hint of a smirk curls your lips, “it just hurt. Green.”

“How about the glove instead of my skin?”

You smile. “I liked that, too. I’ll want your bare hand later, like we said, but I do like the silk.”

“So we’re good to put the clamps back on?”

“Yes, please, Lena,” you say firmly, holding her eyes.

Those eyes turn sultry as she resumes command. “Mmmm, you enjoyed that, little bird?” You nod. “Tell me.”

“I liked it, Miss Luthor,” you answer, slipping back into your role. “I was helplessly yours and I could tell it made you happy.”

“Good girl.” She caresses your cheek with her thumb. “My dear, sweet, good girl. I’m going to gag you again.”

You smile and open wide.

She puts a fingertip under your jaw and pushes it closed. “Not quite yet.” She steps away.

Watching in the mirror, you see her pick up a cushion and kneel on it behind you. When she’s arranged your hair and fastened the gag, her eyes turn devious. “Do you know what I'm going to do now, little bird?” You stare at her reflection, unable to speak even without the gag. She smirks and puts her lips against your ear. _“I’m going to make you come undone to your very roots.”_

You groan, but you know you’re going to love it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will come tonight or tomorrow morning. If you enjoyed, don't forget to leave comments :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand part 3!

Any marks Miss Luthor leaves on you will fade within a few minutes of removing your Kryptonite necklace, so, when she takes your neck in her silk-gloved hand and tilts it to present your smooth skin, she holds nothing back. You gasp against your gag as she sucks and bites, soothing with her tongue before ravishing a new spot. There’ll be a trail of bruises soon. She’s marking her territory, claiming what’s hers. She bites again where your neck meets your shoulder and you groan, your eyes rolling back in your head. You gasp again when she grabs your breast, again when she sucks hard and swirls her tongue where she bit, again when she pinches your nipple between her knuckles, still kneading you roughly…

Knowing why she’s doing this to you makes it even better. “With you, I can enjoy power without fear,” she’d told you, when you asked what being your dom meant to her. “In business, I’m powerful, but I don’t often get to enjoy it. It’s serious, all the time. Then there’s the fear aspect. I’ve been anxious about power ever since…Lex.” You’d nodded and taken her hand; she’d smiled and continued. “Because I love you, I don’t fear that I’m going to lose control with you. I can let my walls down and relish the power you give me over you. It feels freeing.”

You’d smiled and squeezed her hand. “That makes two of us.”

She releases your neck to grasp your other breast and you snap out of your moment of reverie. She’s never been this rough with you. It’s probably because you agreed to the nipple clamps; you suspect she was nervous about hurting you before. Now, she’s ravenous, biting your earlobe as she pinches your hard nipples. Then, she lets go, and the clamps appear in her hands. You wonder whether she was thinking about building up to the pain when she planned this or just thought it would be fun. Your lips quirk against your gag; of course she thought about it. She’s Lena Luthor.

The clamps take their time on their way to your nipples. She’s letting you anticipate, letting you wonder how tight she’s set them. Judging by the way she’s playing, you expect it won’t be just a pleasant squeeze.

To your surprise, they’re only a little tighter than that; you aren’t going to forget about them, but they’re well below your level for ‘hurts so good’. She must plan to leave them on for a while. You let out your held breath through your nose.

Smirking, she wets the tips of her index fingers. She brushes light, teasing, silky circles on the tips of your quickly-sensitizing nipples, making the jewels hanging from them sway gently. You sigh and relax back against her. You could do this all day and _gods,_ she looks hot in opera gloves. You watch her watching you, her chin resting on the ropes over your shoulder. She holds your eyes as she teases, then kneads you with firm hands, then goes back to teasing. “I’ve heard it’s possible to come just from your nipples.” She cocks her head dramatically, looking up and away. “I wonder if the clamps make it easier or harder…” You shiver and groan; she chuckles. “Another time, little bird.” She goes back to kneading your breasts and plants hungry kisses on the unmarked side of your neck. You moan into your gag, feeling desire building between your legs. You were wet already. Now?

Her reflection grins. “Did you see that?” You tilt your head to indicate a question. “In the mirror, just now.” She touches a finger to the floor beneath your cunt, then to your upper lip. It smells of yourself. “You’re _dripping_ , little bird.” Her teeth scrape and tug your earlobe. _“Very. Good. Girl._ There’ll be a lot more before I’m done with you.”

Her hands slide down to your parted thighs, her fingers curling around to the sensitive insides, and you sigh with anticipation. One of those fingers curls inside you, but only once. It returns, coated in you, and traces the lines of your abs. _“A goddess,”_ she breathes, _“all mine.”_ You wouldn’t put it that way, but she does love your stomach.

From behind her back, she retrieves a vibrator and bondage tape. The vibrator slides in easily – you’re aroused and it’s not large – and she tapes it so it won’t fall out, then turns it on the lowest setting. A moan slips from your throat. “I wouldn’t want you to feel left out, little bird,” she smirks, “because you’re going to be buried in my cunt for quite a while.” At that, you groan; that vibrator on low won’t be enough and you both know it. “You won’t be needing this.” Out comes your gag. She steps around you and leans against the mirror. “Show me how strong your tongue is. Don’t stop until I collapse.”

You grin. “Yes, Miss Luthor.”

She hooks one stocking-sheathed leg behind your shoulder and draws you in. As you bend forward, the vibrator grazes just below your clit. You shift your hips to try to get more pressure, but it doesn’t work. You stifle a sigh; you’re here for her pleasure, not yours.

In the absence of other instructions, you start with what you know she likes when you’re not playing: gentle licks around her inner thighs and the edges of her labia. You warm her up, listening to her breathing and reading her arousal. When her hips get restless, you shift to her opening. You lick around her and along her length, but avoid her clit; though it's not your place to tease, you want to give her the best experience you can.

“More,” she growls, and you give it to her. You kiss and lick around her hood, and her sighs turn throaty. It takes focus, now, to keep at it despite the humming in your cunt. You try to channel those feelings into her clit, sucking and licking over it. Blocking out your growing need, you show her just how well you've learned her in your time together.

She comes, gasping and bracing herself against the mirror. You’re impressed; she still has one leg over your shoulder, leaving just one to support her. You slow down and back off, giving her clit time to recover, and then you’re at it again. Her record with you is four, from the one time she let you tie her down and tease her. You’d like to eclipse that today, but, with her standing, you doubt she’ll make it that far. As her climax approaches again, her moans of _“Good girl, goooood girl,”_ fill you with pleasure and pride. It's all you could ask for.

Well, except for a bigger, more powerful vibrator.

At three, her legs are shaking and her upper body is unsteady. She lets her back slide down the mirror until she’s squatting in front of you, then stretches her legs out. “You are such a good girl. You did so well.” She wipes your chin with her thumb, then presses it to your lips. You suck eagerly, always glad to taste more of her. When she’s satisfied with you, she removes your vibrator. Then, she cups your cheek and takes your clamps off. They’ve served their purpose of reminding you who you belong to while you devote your attention to her. Your nipples sting a little, but the light setting means it isn’t much.

“Do you want water? I have more planned for you.”

You aren’t thirsty, but you might as well stay ahead of that. Since your arms are still bound, she places a straw in the water bottle for you. You thought that was childish, at first, until she showed you what having water poured into your mouth felt like.

She's so good with the little things.

When you've sipped enough, she puts the bottle on the side table and returns with your gag. She kneels behind you again and puts it on you. “I want you to watch yourself,” she says, “while I give you all the pleasure you can take. I want you to see everything I do to my little bird. If you close your eyes, I’ll stop touching you until you open them again.” You nod. How you’re going to keep from doing that, you have no idea.

She kisses behind your ear and brings her hands to your breasts. Between the clamps that were there and the ropes that still are, you’re sensitive. You hiss and groan behind the gag, but it’s not too much. It feels just right.

She pinches your nipples and all your muscles clench. “So sensitive,” she murmurs. “I’m such a lucky woman.” She takes a minutes to caress your bound upper arms, giving you the lightest brushes of her fingertips. Next, it's down to your inner thighs. She doesn’t even caress with her hands, again using only your fingertips, and you sigh through your nose. You’re hers and she'll take her sweet time. _“Enjoy,”_ she whispers in your ear, and you shiver. Her tongue licks behind your ear, making you shiver again and close your eyes.

Her fingers lift from your thighs. “Eyes open, little bird.” You open them and nod. Rao, and she isn't even at your cunt yet. This'll take more focus than eating her with the vibrator inside you.

Her fingers return and they're getting close to your lips. You sigh and roll your hips. It's a sight you’re not used to. You've felt your reactions and seen hers, but it's something else to watch in a mirror as your body seeks more. Seeing yourself _need_ something…

It's kinda hot.

She's finally at your opening now and you are wet beyond belief. One stroke of her fingers over you and the tips are coated. She inserts one between your lips and draws it slowly up, then out. You stare when a string follows it. She brings the finger to her lips and cleans it with long licks. “So aroused, and all for me,” she says. “What a good girl you are.”

When her hand returns to your cunt, she teases you for another minute. You’re beginning to feel desperate when she finally slips two fingers inside you. They squelch in a sound that would be lewd if you had any shame. “You’re so hot, so wet for me,” she murmurs. “How does it feel to have me inside you?” Your gag makes it a rhetorical question. “My hand is coated in your lust for me, little bird,” she continues. “It’s like you’re rolling out the red carpet for my fingers, all wet and welcoming.” She kisses your neck and caresses your thigh with her other hand. “I love the way your cunt feels. It’s soft and warm inside, yet strong when you clench on me. It’s a beautiful feeling.” Her thumb teases your clit and you moan into the gag. “That’s it, good girl, feel what I’m giving you. You’re all mine, mine to please, mine to take…” Her finger slide faster, the wet noises get louder, and her other hand goes to your clit, taking it between two fingers and rolling it. You groan with pleasure and arch your back, eyes rolling back and closing. Her hands stop and she plants kisses along your shoulder. “Keep watching,” she reminds you softly.

You groan again and open your eyes. “Good girl,” she hums, resuming her work. It’s a struggle to keep your eyes open, now. You want nothing more to let go of the world and close them, to lose yourself in what she’s giving you. That’s not what Miss Luthor wants, though. She wants you to see yourself come undone. “I want you to see every last roll of your hips and shudder of your body,” she whispers, reading your thoughts. You moan, filled with pleasure and need. “I know you’re going to come soon and I’m not stopping while you ride it out. I’ll bite you if that’s what it takes to keep your eyes open. I don’t want you to miss a second.” You barely stop your eyes from slipping closed at the suggestion. She’s right about your orgasm, too; your tension is reaching the breaking point. You feel it closing in on you and your moans turn strangled. “Come, little bird,” she says as it hits. “Come for me.”

You do and your eyes start to close. She bites the base of your neck, hard, and they pop open wide. You watch in the mirror as your body comes undone. You’re clenching and contracting, leaking even more of yourself over her hand and down your thighs. Your breasts bounce between the ropes of your harness as you gasp and shudder. You can barely stay upright and she takes her hand from your clit to steady you. “Nod if you can keep going.”

You do. You want to see what happens. There’s something fascinating about watching yourself, helpless and flushed, legs held wide and arms bound in place. Rao, you’re _hers,_ all hers, and she’s going to make you come again. You don’t want her to stop. You don’t want her to ever stop. You licked and sucked her until she gave out and now you want her to fuck you into oblivion. It doesn’t take effort to keep your eyes open anymore. All you want is to see what she can do to her good girl.

Then, you’re coming again, flooded and rocking with pleasure. “More?” You moan and nod. She sees the desire in your eyes. “Shake your head when you’re done and we’ll end.” That’s ‘red’, you note, but since it’ll be the end anyway, it makes sense. You watch as she relentlessly takes you apart. “You’re so beautiful,” she breathes in your ear. “So beautiful.” You can only agree. You’ve seen her orgasm, but this is something different. In her arms, bound and helpless, spread wide open, you’re completely at her mercy and she’s taking everything you have – yet she’s the one giving to you. You are a shuddering wreck, a being disassembled, but she’s not preying on you. She’s freeing you. You’re hers and she’s freeing you from every care, every concern, every responsibility and obligation. All you are is a soul and a body and divine pleasure, nothing more and nothing less.

As your fourth subsides, you shake your head. You wish you could keep going, but that’s enough. You can’t remember how long you’ve been bound, and even your superhuman limbs are starting to ache, to say nothing of your clit. Immediately, she pulls away her hand and sets to releasing you. She removes your gag first and you breathe in ragged gasps. She disconnects the spreader bar from the straps, then takes the shears and frees you from the rope harness. You sink back into her, utterly spent. She carries you to your bed and lays you down, then removes the spreader cuffs from your legs. Off comes your necklace. “Water?”

You nod and she brings the bottle to you. You sip through the straw, not wanting to overdo it, until your thirst abates. “Do need me to let you be for a while?”

Normally, she’d massage where your bonds had been, but you can tell she’s being ginger with you. You give her a small nod and a small smile. “At my side. Don’t cuddle.” She looks concerned at that, clearly wondering if ‘no cuddles’ means she’s pushed you too far. “Maybe hold my hand?” you ask, and she looks relieved. She lies beside you, giving you a little more space than usual, and takes your hand. Your smile is tired but content as you drift off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! This is the end for "I Like My Name When You Say It." Love them though I do, my heart has moved on from this take on the characters. My next E-rated work will take a new direction and tone with them, including a reversal of roles. Brace yourselves for Mistress Zor-El...
> 
> As always, don't forget to leave comments :)


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